


When I have you, wanna leave you (when you go, that's when I need you)

by writworm42



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Jealousy, M/M, boy b&v, break-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writworm42/pseuds/writworm42
Summary: Jose is having the time of his life at Christmas, and Brock can't stand it anymore.
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	When I have you, wanna leave you (when you go, that's when I need you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sohytes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohytes/gifts).



> For sohytes, who asked for jealous Brooke. MERRY CHRISTMAS BINCH <3 I know it's early, but I started this today and COULD NOT STOP. Thank you Holtz for beta-ing and barbie for making sure my Spanish was correct fhdjskh
> 
> Title from Waves by Normani ft 6LACK

Jose is having a fine time without Brock, and it’s killing him. 

Brock knows that he shouldn’t have looked at Instagram. Not today. He should have given his phone to Steve, should have holed himself up with his family, focused more on that than on his social media feed. But the fans wanted a Christmas Eve message, and so he went live to wish them all happy holidays and torture them with an ugly sweater look sure to make them groan for weeks, and then, well. If he has his phone, checking others’ stories is just  _ automatic. _

Only then Vanessa goes live. Not as Vanjie, but as Jose, on his private, personal account. Jose spins the camera around in his usual erratic, enthusiastic manner, shouting and screaming at the hectic family scene unfolding in front of the lens.

“ _ Live and in colour, the Cancel family Christmas dinner, hoes--Hey! HEY! MAMI! BAJA EL CUCHILLO--” _

Brock is the only person viewing; he can see it, the ‘1’ in the corner of the screen speaking for itself in terms of displaying what a pathetic, desperate loser he is. What a pathetic, desperate loser he looks like. Jose probably knows that ‘1’ is Brock, too; it’s a thought that adds insult to injury, yet he can’t bring himself to look away. 

Just then, the ‘1’ changes to a ‘2,’ and Brock relaxes--he’s not the only one watching. He’s not the only one who cares what Jose’s doing right now. Sure, he still has no business caring in the first place, but at the very least, he’s not the only one.

His relief is short-lived, though, when Jose’s attention is pulled back on-screen.

“AIDAN!!!” he screams, his voice high-pitched and excited, just like it used to be whenever he saw Brock’s name pop on his screen. “HOW YOU DOIN’, BOO?”

Brock doesn’t wait for Aidan to write anything back, or to request to join, or for Jose to say anything else; he just closes the window and throws his phone onto the next available surface, disgust washing through him like a wave. 

Jose has said time and time again that he and Aidan aren’t a thing; that they’re just friends, just like he and Brock are just friends. It’s an expression that’s far from comforting for Brock, considering that every time he and Jose are in the same room, electricity still crackles like it did a year ago, their eyes lingering on each other like the first time they de-dragged in front of each other and smiles plastered on their faces like every other time they’ve been together, laughs rolling and love palpable between them. 

None of that has changed, so why does it hurt?

Maybe it’s because it’s their first Christmas without each other, like  _ really _ without each other, not calling or skyping or texting, bouncing between  _ I love yous  _ and  _ I wanna see yous _ and other things that Brock likes to think about when he’s alone at night and can’t sleep. Maybe it’s because Brock misses Jose, wants him back by his side as more than just a friend.

Or maybe it’s just because he can’t stand Aidan, and just because he and Jose aren’t together doesn’t mean he’s not still Brock’s. 

So he’s a little possessive; sue him. Sometimes, things are worth the agitation. 

He plans to leave the phone there, to just go and spend the rest of the night with his family like he should have in the first place, when it vibrates from its place on Brock’s bedside table, so suddenly he almost jumps in surprise.

**J:** _ Hey, merry Christmas! _

A second text pops up a moment later, a string of orange hearts and Christmas trees that should make Brock smile-- _ would _ make Brock smile, if it weren’t for the sound of Jose screaming Aidan’s name that kept replaying over and over again in his mind. 

He has two options. Be forgiving, or be petty. Be the bigger person, or get down to Jose’s level whenever Jose himself is mad and decides it’s time to give Brock the silent treatment. Kill him with kindness, or kill him with indifference instead. 

Hell, he should just kill Aidan instead, maybe that’d solve all his problems. 

He shakes off the thought, inhaling sharply before clicking on the text window to type his reply.

Just a Santa Claus emoji; that’s all Jose deserves, so that’s all Brock is gonna leave. One little image, on theme, saying everything he’s feeling without letting it pour out directly. 

He picks up the phone again within five seconds and types out a follow-up before he can stop himself.

**B:** _ How’s Aidan? _

The three dots pop up almost instantly, typing furiously before the texts start to pour in, as mile-a-minute as anything that would have come out of Jose’s mouth. 

**J:** _ Bitch, really? _

**J:** _ I told you. We ain’t nothing.  _

**J:** _ Shit.  _

**J:** _ You was on that live too, and we ain’t foolin around rn. So how u know me & Aidan are??? _

Brock’s breath hitches in his throat, his cheeks suddenly burning with shame. Jose is right; he  _ doesn’t  _ know that Jose and Aidan are fooling around. But he’s also sure that Jose knows why he was on that live in the first place; isn’t it possible that Aidan was after the same thing?

**B:** _ I also didn’t get a shoutout like he did _

It’s petulant and childish, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not now, not when Aidan gets to hear his name on Jose’s lips and all Brock gets is a lousy text.

**J:** _I woulda but I barely had the chance! You left the minute I said his name, bitch_

He should go. He should abandon this fight before he loses it, because he knows he doesn’t have an argument or an excuse. He has no right to be jealous, especially since he can tell that Jose isn’t lying; that isn’t Jose. 

But then another text comes through, and Brock can’t help but look despite the fear of what might it contain.

**J:** _ what do u want from me, Brock? _

**J:** _ we said we wouldn’t do this no more. _

You _ said we wouldn’t do this!  _ Brock wants to scream, but he can’t—that’s not him. No, as far as he and Jose are concerned, he’s the adult; he lets things go when Jose won’t. And Jose begged Brock to let go, because he couldn’t.

Maybe Brock isn’t as grown up as either of them thought he was. 

Fuck it. Brock licks his lips and coughs, suddenly realizing how dry his throat has become. Exhaling shakily, he squeezes his eyes shut and presses a button on the screen, and then the phone begins to ring.

“What, bitch?” Brock’s eyes snap open to see Jose’s face, and even though he looks pissed as Hell, Brock feels relieved. 

Now if only he knew what to say. He starts with the only thing that can come to mind.

“Jo, I’m--I’m sorry.” he sighs, closing his eyes again, hoping to block out the world again. But his world is on the other side of the FaceTime call, and he’s waiting for an answer, so Brock looks again, looks back at the unamused face and the hint of concern, of caring, that still lingers Jose’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have gotten jealous. I--I just… I just…”

_ I need you so badly. I want you here. I’m a stupid, selfish child and I can’t stand the thought of not having you to myself. I need you more than anything else right now. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to let you go. _

“I miss you.” 

Brock stares at Jose in shock, his heart suddenly torn between speeding up and stopping altogether. Jose rolls his eyes and sighs, covering his face in his hands.

“Brock, look… I just can’t do this no more. All this up and down and back and forth. Me gettin’ jealous and you… You barely seemed to care a lot of the time.”

_ I  _ do _ care!  _ Brock wants to yell, wants to make Jose understand just how wrong he is, but Jose isn’t done, and Brock knows that. So instead, he bites his lips, forces down the argument bubbling in his throat, and listens.

“To tell you the truth, only reason I shouted Aidan out was ‘cause I knew you was watching.” Jose confessed. “I wanted to see you get jealous, ‘cause… ‘Cause I knew you’d call.”

_ What? _ Brock feels a pit open up in his stomach, one that’s quickly swallowed up by a rush of fire. All of this was just a game, a stupid ruse to mess with Brock’s head, get him up in his feelings, as if Jose didn’t know that he could have just  _ said _ he wanted to talk to Brock, just fucking  _ called _ him if he wanted to hear his voice or see his face. It’s inexcusable, and Brock can barely contain the dizzying anger coursing through his veins as he finally chokes out the one question on his mind.

“Why didn’t you just--”

But he doesn’t get the question out--he doesn’t get the chance.

“Because I told you to stay away, and I was too proud to be the one who cracked!” Jose yells, cutting Brock off completely and continuing to speak so fast and breathlessly that Brock couldn’t regain control of the conversation if he tried. “I’m always the one who cracks, Brock. Always. I’m always the one who wants you back. Just once, I wanted you to be the one who was begging for me.”

Brock isn’t sure what to say to that, so he hangs up without a word.

Jose keeps texting him for the rest of the night, but he doesn’t bother responding. Not because he’s angry--he  _ is _ angry, angry that Jose is always the one to cut things off, then always the one to bring things back together. But at the same time, he’s strangely… Well, maybe happy isn’t the right word, but in an odd way, he’s almost… Hopeful. Hopeful that Jose wants him back as bad as he wants Jose. Hopeful that if he plays his cards right, this time, things will stick. 

So he doesn’t ignore Jose because he’s angry; he ignores Jose because he’s thinking, looking at his cards, deciding what hand to play. 

He wakes up the next morning with a hangover and a buzzing phone.

“Merry Christmas.” he croaks, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“We got unfinished business.” Jose hisses, his voice gravelly and tired, and Brock realizes with a pang of guilt that the man hasn’t slept. “I been trying to get you to talk to me all last night.”

“I’m sorry.” Brock forces himself up, sighing deeply. “I wasn’t ignoring you, I was just--”

“I know. You was trying to think. I get it.” 

“Yeah.” 

There’s silence, heavy and suffocating, when suddenly, Brock finds his words. 

Not the words he practiced; only the ones he feels.

“I miss you a ton.” he confesses, cursing himself for going off-script, but knowing that whatever happens, he absolutely can’t stop. “Like, more than anything else. You already know that. I just--I wanted to do what you wanted, Jo. You’re always so strong and--and sure of what you want. At least, you look that way. And when I see that, when I see you getting so passionate and advocating for yourself like that… I just love you too much, Jo. I can’t stand not giving you what you want. Even what you want isn’t me.” 

More silence, and Brock’s chest tightens with fear that he might have said too much, or said the wrong thing, and that Jose is even more upset than when he first opened his mouth. But then Jose laughs, hollow and short, and somehow, Brock knows he’s finally done something right.

“I really have made a mess, huh?” Jose keeps laughing, though his voice is remorseful, maybe even apologetic. “I’m sorry, toes.”

“I know.” Brock feels himself relax for the first time since the night before, tension leaving his shoulders and back like hundred-pound weights being lifted from his body. “I’m sorry, too.”

“So… we gonna try again now? Is that where this is going?” there’s an edge of hope to the  question, and, just for a moment, Brock can’t help but get caught up in it too, can’t help but imagine finally being able to hold Jose in his arms again, say what’s always on his mind again. 

Only then he hears stirring in the house, his family finally waking up and filing into the kitchen, and he’s brought back to reality again. 

“I’m not sure we’re ready yet.” he sighs, because he hates this, hates being the one to let Jose down  _ again _ , but he knows without a doubt that he’s right. They’re not ready yet--not if this time is going to be the last. There’s too much pain, too much debris from their last attempts that they’ve still got to clean up first. 

Jose says nothing, and that’s all the confirmation Brock needs to understand that Jose knows it, too.

“So what, then?” Jose asks, noise beginning to sound in the background on his end of the line, too. Fuck. They’re almost out of time, and they’ve only just started to actually get somewhere. Typical. 

Someone calls Brock’s name, and he’s about to rush out of his room to answer them, when suddenly, something snaps, and he finds his feet rooted to the ground. Maybe it’s the adrenaline; maybe it’s some kind of bravado; heck, maybe it’s Christmas magic. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s just the knowledge and hope that finally, he and Jose might do things right. For whatever reason, Brock decides that he’s finally going to break the chain, finally going to stand his ground, even if it means everyone else is waiting for him to start breakfast.

Because sometimes, things are worth getting in trouble with your family for.

“Maybe we start with a few more phone calls, then a date?” he suggests.

“A few more phone calls then a date sounds good.” Jose agrees, and Brock swears he can practically hear the smile that he’s sure is spreading on the other man’s face. “We’ll take it slow, get to know each other again.” 

“Sounds good.” Brock nods. “So…”

“So merry Christmas, Brock.” Jose laughs, “Don’t screw up this time, alright?”

“Alright.” Brock grins, his heartbeat picking up. “Merry Christmas, Jo.”

“Talk to you later, toes.”

“Bye.”

He doesn’t say I love you; not yet, it’s not the time. But that will come later.

For now, he’ll savour the gift of a second chance. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed!!!


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